


Mycroft & Anthea

by TopHatCat



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Drama, F/M, Fluff, I suck at naming things, I wrote this a while ago so it's not my latest writing abilities, Mycroft is only emotional with people he loves, Romance, What are titles, but its cute so i decided to post it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-25
Updated: 2017-10-25
Packaged: 2019-01-22 19:48:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12489488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TopHatCat/pseuds/TopHatCat





	Mycroft & Anthea

 

Anthea first saw Mycroft Holmes when she was thirteen years old.  She was sitting on the curb in front of the King’s Cross Station, smoking a cigarette she had nicked from her father, and trying not to cry. Her life had gone downhill since she was born, and sometimes just lying on the pavement and never moving again seemed the easiest thing to do.  But that day, something happened; a black car pulled up to the curb beside her.

It was suspiciously sleek and had tinted windows, and a large man wearing sunglasses got out.  He turned to speak to someone inside. Anthea, curious, stood up to see who in the world would have such a car and a bodyguard.

Out stepped a tall man wearing a grey suit.  He had dark red hair and, curiously, an umbrella hooked over his arm, though the day was sunny.  Anthea felt a sudden thrill run through her, but she couldn’t tell why.  The man seemed important, though he was only in his early twenties or so.  Why would such a person make her feel so small and insignificant?

Suddenly her arm was grabbed by the bodyguard.  She shouted and hit at him.  “Let me go, you jerk!”

“Get out of here, ruffian,” he growled, pushing her away.  Anthea stumbled, falling.  “It’s Anthea!” she snapped, from the ground.  “I’m not just some dog you can shove around!”  She was about to rise when the young man sighed and swung his umbrella toward the bodyguard.

“Honestly, if you threaten every person who comes within five feet of me, _everyone_ will notice us.”

The bodyguard frowned. “I charged to watch you Mr. Holmes and-.”

“Yes, I _know_ what you were charged to do.” Mr. Holmes turned to Anthea. “I really don’t know what the use of bodyguards is.  Forgive this one; he’s no less daft than the others.”

This apology startled Anthea; she wasn’t used to the higher class paying any attention to her at all. “No problem, sir,” she said, getting to her feet.  The young man nodded and walked away toward the station, swinging his umbrella.  The bodyguard followed and Anthea watched them vanish through the doors.

“Girl!” Anthea turned as her father ran up to her, his face red from running and drink. “Who was that you were just talking to now?”

“I don’t know,” she said.  “Just some man.”

“Just some government man by the looks of him.” Her father took her arm and shook her. “You stay away from that sort of people, you hear me?”

“I hear you,” said Anthea, but her thoughts were on the young man, Mr. Holmes…

Whether she knew it or not, that incident sent Anthea Revmapedio on her path into the British Government.  She went to college, got her degree, and applied as a secretary to various offices.  One finally took her and for three years she had a steady job. It wasn’t the best, but anything was better than living on the streets or working in a fish shop like her father had.

Anthea had looked up Mr. Holmes when she went into collage and found him listed as a very powerful person in the government.  In fact, many references stated that he had so much power he almost _was_ the British Government.  Anthea’s employer was well up in the community of officials, so once in a while she would get a glimpse of Mycroft Holmes at various meetings or gatherings, but never dared speak to him.  She supposed she would never talk to him, and settled to her job dutifully and without hopes.

However, fate decided to intervene.

One late winter day, her employer stated he ‘simply didn’t have the means’ to ‘engage her services’ any longer.  Anthea knew what that meant.  He had found someone prettier to take her place.  He didn’t care she worked herself to bones because she loved what she did; he only cared about the face that sat behind the desk.  Dark haired wasn’t his style anymore.

So she retreaded to her flat, put on her pink fluffy bathrobe and proceeded to look for jobs.  Nothing came up.  For a few weeks she looked, and then an email came from a friend saying there was one position she might try for.  The friend sent a link.

When Anthea clicked on it, the information provided stated that she would be applying for the positon of assistant to…

Anthea started when she read the name. 

Mycroft Holmes.

She quickly read the requirements. She fit every one, but when details came into perspective she found her background would not be accepted.  She came from a shoddy family, a shabby part of London, a place full of secrets.  Not the ideal background conditions for an assistant to the most powerful man in England.

Nevertheless, Anthea applied, and found she would be expected to appear at the office building with five other women on the twenty-eighth of May.  Each of them would obtain a spot in the building, but only one would receive the positon of Mycroft’s assistant.  Anthea had no doubts hers would be the lowest position, but she went to bed with a little flame of hope that hadn’t sparked in a long time.

The twenty-eighth brought a rush of nerves.  Anthea spent the morning fixing her hair and discarding outfit after outfit.  She finally settled on her hair falling on her shoulders, the ends curled, and a simple knee-length black dress and black dress jacket.  Then, worried she might be late, Anthea caught a cab and headed into corporate London.

She had to go up several floors to reach the office, and when she arrived the other five women were already there, sitting in the waiting room and chatting.  Anthea had looked them up before she came, and recognized all of them as wealthy, popular women, well known as secretaries, assistants and clerks.  She didn’t dream of having a chance against them for a job at Mycroft’s side.

Apparently they thought the same thing.  Penny Terfilion, blond and wearing pink, sniffed indiscreetly when Anthea sat down.  “What job are you applying for, dear?” she asked.  “Mr. Cartwright’s assistant?”

The other women smirked.  Anthea stiffened. Mr. Cartwright was the rich yet spineless official on the second floor.

“One of us will get that job,” said Vera Netherland tossing her black hair, “and it won’t be me.”

“And what makes you think that?” asked Kathrin Feathers.

“Because only one of here is the sort for such a low-end job,” replied Vera.  All eyes turned to Anthea, and she had no doubt they had looked her up too.  She was about to reply with a cutting remark, but then the door to Mycroft’s office opened.  A young blond man looked out. “Mr. Holmes is ready for you, Mrs. Netherland.”

Vera stood, tossing her hair again. “Time to put on the charm,” she whispered, and sashayed into the office.

“She doesn’t have a chance,” said Penny, leaning back and crossing her legs.  “I’m the one for the job.”  She winked. “Blond is more Mr. Holmes’s style; I can tell.”

“What a way to get into the world,” said Maria Gareth, “Mr. Holmes’s assistant! I can almost see every other assistant green with envy!”

Anthea almost felt sick with repulsion.  All that these women cared about was the fame that would come with being Mycroft’s assistant. They cared nothing for the job or how important it was.  Did they even think about how serious this position would be?  Anthea ignored their talk for the rest of the time.

Finally, Heather Green came out and Anthea stood to take her turn.  She stepped to the door, but then paused when she heard Mycroft’s words from inside.

“I thought we had six applicants today, Mr. White?”

“Yes, sir, but one might not be entirely qualified.  Her background is bit… lower-class.”

Anthea felt her cheeks grow red.  She heard the snickers from the women behind her and knew she should never have come. 

White was still talking.

“She’s had a job with Derek Pariletto, but-.”

There was a sigh. “ _Do_ spare me the details, Mr. White.  She has gotten this far; I am quite sure we afford a simple interview.  Who is she?”

“Anthea Revmapedio.”

“Anthea?” 

There was a pause and then the door opened. Anthea jumped and looked up into the face of Mycroft Holmes.  “Anthea Revmapedio?”

“Yes, sir,” she answered, and dared to look into his eyes.  To her astonishment, she saw recognition.  Could it be that he remembered her from the street?  No, that couldn’t be true.

“Sir, I must protest,” said White in a loud whisper, peeking around Mycroft.  “Her background, there are things that are unclear-.”

“Miss Revmapedio,” Mycroft cut in, “do you have any secrets?”

Anthea was taken by surprise.  Her job, her life, was on the tipping point; however she behaved now would push it onto sturdy ground or plummeting into the abyss of ruin.  She took a breath and nodded. “Yes, sir,” she said coolly.  “I do.”

She heard Penny whispering behind her and she knew her cheeks were reddening again. But she kept her face impassive and stared at Mycroft’s tie, waiting for his answer.

“Everyone has secrets,” he said. “Anyone who says they don’t is a liar.”  His voice had an edge to it, and the women had stopped murmuring.  Anthea didn’t dare to look up.

“Mr. Holmes…?” White’s tone was puzzled.

“Come in, Miss Revmapedio,” said Mycroft, stepping aside. “We have business to discuss if you are going to be my assistant.”

Anthea didn’t laugh or cry like she wanted too. Instead she lifted her chin and smiled calmly. “Thank you, Mr. Holmes,” she said, and walked into the office.  She heard White sputtering as Mycroft closed the door on him and the others.

Six months.

 _‘Six months?’_ Anthea asked herself as she got ready for work in the fall.  _‘The best six months of my life.’_

Anthea knew there was nothing she liked better than working for Mycroft Holmes.  He operated with a hundred different topics, knew a thousand different people, and was constantly working.  Anthea didn’t know how he did it. It seemed as if the man never slept. She would often nod off over her paperwork late at night and he would send her home, but as she went he would still be at his desk, working away.

“Like a machine,” she said to herself in the cab to the office. “But even machines needs to be oiled and repaired sometimes. They need someone to care for them.”

Anthea took the lift to the correct floor and often ran into other office workers. She more than not tried to avoid Penny Terfilion.  The woman never shut up about her ‘awful’ position with Mr. Cartwright, and often insulted Anthea.

“It’s all out of jealousy,” comforted her closet friend in the building who was, ironically, Mr. White.  “They’re just ticked you got the job.”

“You were too at first, Bill,” said Anthea teasingly.  White grinned sheepishly. “I was wrong.”

Today when Anthea passed by the security guards and entered the lift, it was occupied by Penny and Heather.  They stared at her contemptuously.  She didn’t look at them and took out her phone, flipping through the emails she had to attend to that day.

“How’s the position?” asked Heather in a scornful tone.  “Enjoying your little association with Mycroft?”

“I don’t think she’ll last,” said Penny, “her face isn’t _that_ pretty.”

Anthea knew they wanted to rile her up.  They had succeeded on more than one account, and she thought about how Mycroft’s would handle the situation.

_‘Chin up, eyes hard, make them wish they’d never been born.’_

Well, she couldn’t do the never been born part, but she could attempt the glare.

“Ooh, look, the evil eye,” snickered Penny as the lift dinged to a stop.  The two woman left and Penny bumped Anthea hard as she did, causing the young woman to drop her phone.  Before Anthea could react, the lift doors had shut on the slim silver device.  When the lift finally reached correct floor, Anthea picked up the phone and found the screen and casing both cracked.

She began to panic slightly.  Quickly she discovered it still worked, though it was difficult to read text.  She leaned against the hallway wall and buried her head in her hands. Her phone had all her contact, notes, messages and information.  She had a backup phone, but it was at home, and cheaper than this one.  Looking at her watch she realized she would be late if she moped around here any longer.  The broken phone would have to do for now.

Anthea went to her desk and gathered up the papers she was due to give Mycroft that morning.  Slipping the phone in her breast pocket, she rapped on the office door and entered.

“The Prime Minister and the Chief of the Secret Intelligence Service wanted phone conferences and a few members of the parliament were asking for in-person meeting,” she said, setting the paper’s down.

“Not again,” said Mycroft in a doleful tone. “They always want to make some announcement or other.  I see you met Miss. Terfilion in the lift again this morning.”

Anthea was hardly surprised at this remark.  Mycroft Holmes often made little observations like this.  She found it fascinating, but never expressed her admiration more than a simple, “Yes, sir, you’re very right.”

“Kept your temper this time,” he continued, picking up a bill and reading it. “Good.  Control is the key to the doors of the world.”  He glanced up. “And your phone?”

Now Anthea was taken aback at this uncanny deduction.  Hesitantly she took out her phone and placed it in his outstretched palm.  “Sorry, Mr. Holmes.  It’s badly damaged.”

“It’s hardly your fault,” said Mycroft, studying the screen.

“I dropped it and it got caught in the lift doors,” Anthea said, flushing.  “I can still work on it however.  Is that all, sir?”

Mycroft handed the phone back to her.  “Yes, that is all.”

Anthea had just reached the door when Mycroft called, “Miss. Revmapedio.”

“Yes, Mr. Holmes?”  She turned to find Mycroft standing behind her, his own phone in his hand.

“You need a working phone.”

“Yours?” she asked, astonished.

“It has everything you would need on it, and my laptop will suffice today.”  He looked shrewdly at her. “I can’t afford your work to be any less productive.”

Anthea took the device with a stammered thank you.  She had never been so confused in her life.  All she had heard of Mycroft Holmes, all she had read, and all she had assumed was that he was ice through and through.  But this was different.

“Now, Miss. Revmapedio, back to work?”

“Yes,” Anthea said quickly, and hurried out the door.  When she was back at her desk she stared at the phone for a few moments before shaking herself and getting to work. The entire day felt different, strange on the verge of surreal.  She surmised Mycroft must have changed some settings, for she got only one call, only moments before she left for home.

“Mr. Holmes,” she said, peering into the office, “It’s your brother, Sherlock.”

“Ah, yes,” replied Mycroft dryly.  “I’ve been expecting it.”

Anthea handed him the phone and, for the fraction of an instant, their fingers brushed.  The young woman shivered and jerked her hand away.  Mycroft looked at her and she averted her eyes.

“Goodnight, sir,” she said quickly, and fairly ran out the door.

In the cab on the way to her flat she realized she was trembling.  But it wasn’t cold, or fear.  Anthea gripped the door handle and silently berated herself.

 _‘Foolish,’_ she thought.  _‘Foolish, foolish girl!  Love is not for you!  He and you could never be…’_ She rubbed her fingers where they had brushed Mycroft’s cool skin.  It had felt sweet, that brief moment of contact.  When Anthea reached her flat she lay on the bed and cried herself to sleep.

The next day when she walked in, Bill White informed her Mr. Holmes was out, and had left papers on her desk.  Anthea entered her office and set her bag on the floor.  She sat down and was about to pick up the stack of papers when she noticed the small slim box in the center of the desk.  Curious, she picked it up.  It was tied with a green ribbon and she untied it and lifted the cover.  Inside lay a shiny new phone.  Anthea’s hand flew to her mouth and she gasped.  Carefully, she picked up the delicate object and held it in her palm. It was new, top of the line. There was no note, nor did there need to be.  Anthea knew who it had come from.   She leaned back in her chair and stared at the phone for a long time.

The next morning she could barely contain herself and refrained from spilling out in a passionate thank you.  Mycroft simply waved the favor away.

Weeks later brought a meeting. Anthea dreaded meetings for the sole purpose that she had to spend time with the other assistants. Namely it was Penny and her friends she despised.  For most of the time, she was with Mycroft, but there were usually those times when the assistants had to wait in a separate room while particular things were discussed.  Anthea specifically loathed this because on the way back to the office Mycroft usually told her everything they had talked about anyway.

“Let’s keep this spell of cool temperament going, shall we?” Mycroft whispered to her as they split up.  He smirked. “I believe you haven’t said an unpleasant thing about Miss. Terfilion this whole month.”

“Mainly because I avoid her, Mr. Holmes,” said Anthea, with a small smile.  “But I’ll do my best.”

“Good,” Mycroft said, and they each turned to go.  Then he faced her again. “Oh, Miss. Revmapedio?”

“Yes?” she asked, coming back to him.

Mycroft handed her his briefcase. “I won’t be needing this; keep an eye on it, will you?”  Then he unhooked his umbrella from his arm. “And this too. A very close eye.”

“Of course,” Anthea replied somewhat breathlessly, taking both items. “I will keep them at my side the entire time.”

Mycroft nodded sternly and walked off down the hall.  Anthea hurried away to the waiting room.

When she entered, everyone looked up, and Anthea could see the sneer appearing on Penny’s face.  But then it vanished and was replaced by a look of amazement.  The other men and woman in the room looked equally shocked.  One of them, a young woman named Faith, who had been kind to Anthea, gasped.

“Anthea!  Is that-? Are you holding-?”

White’s eyes were huge. “Anthea.  Y-you’re holding Mr. Holmes’ _umbrella_!”

Anthea smiled, but felt confused.  True, she had known Mycroft’s umbrella was important to him, verging on treasured, but she found no reason why it was such a big deal she was taking care of it for a little while.

“Anthea,” said White, moving to sit beside her, “Mr. Holmes doesn’t let _anyone_ hold his umbrella.  All the assistants he’s had; none have ever touched it, let alone left alone with it.  You know what this means?”

“What?” asked Anthea, feeling very nervous and ecstatic at the same time. 

Faith leaned close. “It means you’re _special_.”

“Her?” scoffed Penny. “As if!”

“Shut up, Penny,” said Faith nonchalantly.

“I’m not anything to Mr. Holmes,” said Anthea, with a small laugh.  “Simply his assistant.”

“His assistant that he lets hold his brolly,” White pointed out, his fingertips fluttering a hairbreadth away from the umbrella, careful not to brush it.  Anthea looked at the slim folded device in her lap.  Suddenly it seemed to glow and she was afraid to even touch it.  She looked up and found Faith and White smiling at her, and Penny was glaring at her.

 _‘If looks could kill I would be dead ten times over,’_ Anthea thought bitterly.

The rest of the time actually went pleasantly enough, with both White and Faith talking to Anthea the whole time.  An hour later the door opened and Mr. Cartwright looked in.

“Let’s go, Miss. Terfilion,” he said, and Penny rolled her eyes and got to her feet.

“Coming,” she said, walking to the door.  As she passed Anthea, she tipped her coffee cup, sending the brown liquid everywhere.  “Oops,” she smirked, and left.

Anthea looked down.  She had moved quickly, turning in her chair, and her right shoulder and side were drenched.  Only the handle of the umbrella was wet.

“Why that-!” cried Faith, leaping to her feet.  Several off the other men and women were equally angered, but a few friends of Penny’s snickered and quickly left.

Anthea grabbed a few napkins and with White’s help and some water, the umbrella was sparkling.

“Thank goodness you’re fast,” said White, trying to soak up the coffee on her dress with a napkin.  “Sorry about your clothes though.”

“Never mind that,” said Anthea.  “Someday I will show Penny she cannot walk on me.”

“I believe you will,” murmured White, seeing the flames in her eyes.

Anthea left the room in a hot temper, White following her at a safe distance.  When they met Mycroft at the lift, Anthea had cooled down a lot, but she could tell he knew what had happened.  She handed him his case and umbrella and looked down at her feet as they waited.

Mycroft hooked his umbrella over his arm.  “I see you kept her safe.”

“Not a spot on her,” piped in White.  “Your brolly was in safe hands, Mr. Holmes.”

“I never doubted that, Mr. White,” said Mycroft, stepping into the lift.  Anthea looked up at him, but his gaze was directed at a paper in his hand.

That night in bed, Anthea lay awake for a long time.  She couldn’t fall asleep.  With a sigh of annoyance, she got up, put on her bathrobe over her pyjamas and opened the window.  The fire escape led right up to the roof, and she quickly climbed the rusty metal steps and reached her place of solitude.

Going to the very edge of the building, she sat down, looking over the glittering city.  Tracing the streets with her mind, she found the building where she worked.  Most of the windows were dark, but one glinted against the darkness around it.

Anthea counted the windows and realized it was Mycroft’s office.  She glanced at her watch just as it beeped 12:00.  Midnight.  He was working late.  Again.  Anthea could help but be concerned for him.  Did he stay up this late every night?  He came in at seven ‘o’ clock each morning.

“Go to bed, Mr. Holmes,” she muttered, yawning.  She was tired now, but she sat up until the office light blinked off.  Then she went to bed.

Anthea balanced her tea in one hand, her phone in the other and sheaf of papers under her arm.  She was checking texts.  Sherlock, apparently not receiving replies from his brother, had started messaging her now.  She had no idea how he had gotten her number, but she never questioned the Holmes’ brothers’ methods.  She deleted the texts, knowing Mycroft would answer in due time.

“Anthea!”

Anthea looked up to see Faith hurrying toward her.  “Hi,” she answered as her friend reached her.

“Have you heard?” asked Faith, “Penny’s transferring from Cartwright’s assistant to Haven’s!”

“Oh that’s just gorgeous,” said Anthea irritated. “Mr. Haven’s is the closest office to Mycroft’s.”

“So you two will be next-door neighbors,” groaned Faith.  “Sorry.”

“I’ll survive, I guess,” Anthea sighed. “But I’m going to be late.  See you at lunch?”

“In the lobby as usual,” agree Faith, and Anthea stepped into the lift.

Noon found the two young women sitting and chatting with sandwiches and coffee. 

“Mr. Johnson is such a joy to work for,” said Faith. “He’s so sweet.” She took a sip of coffee. “You have to put up with the human ice block.”

“Funny that people say that,” said Anthea. “But he’s not that bad.  Mr. Homes is actually quite kind.”

Faith stared at her. “Really?  I don’t think that sentence has ever been said in the history of the world.”

Anthea laughed. “Well, maybe I’ve just built up a tolerance.”

“Or maybe you’re just crazy,” snorted Faith.  Then she sighed. “Don’t look now, but…”

Anthea felt a tap on her shoulder and she looked up to see Penny, flanked by Heather and Vera.

“Good morning,” Anthea said. “Can I help you?”

“Yes,” snapped Penny, “you can.”

“How?” asked Anthe, surprised.

“By laying off,” answered Penny.  “I’ve been trying forever to get his attention, and _you_ are getting in the way!”

“Mycroft’s hers,” put in Heather. “Not yours.”

Anthea stood.  “That’s Mr. Holmes to you.”

“I’m in Haven’s office now,” said Penny.   “One step closer.  Soon _I’ll_ be sitting at _your_ desk.”  She leaned close to Anthea.  “And your little boss Mycroft will be mine.”

Anthea felt the wave of fire roar through her.  She lifted her chin, ice and flames in her eyes. “Shut up.” 

Penny opened her mouth to respond, but then her face melted into a stunning smile and she stepped past Anthea.

“Mr. Holmes,” she said as he stepped out of the lift.  “Did you hear? We’re going to be working next to each other!”

Faith cast Anthea a warning glance.  _‘Don’t do anything stupid.’_

“Ah yes,” said Mycroft in a tired voice.  “I had heard.”  Anthea thought he looked worn-out, drawn.

“Isn’t that just wonderful?” Penny said as Anthea approached them.

“Mr. Holmes, I have those dates and times you wanted,” she said stiffly, trying to get between him and Penny.

“Very good,” said Mycroft, taking the paper.  “I’ll need those tonight.”

“Someday _I’ll_ be the one handing him papers,” Penny breathed in Anthea’s ear.  “And that’s not all I’ll be doing.  Mycroft’s not yours, dear, never has been, never will be.”

Anthea turned. “ _That’s Mr. Holmes to you_ ,” she hissed.  Then she slapped Penny across the face.  Hard.

Penny staggered back and Faith shot to her feet.

“You hit me!” screeched Penny.  “You-!” But she suddenly fell silent.

Anthea didn’t need to look. She could feel his eyes on her. 

“Anthea,” he said coldly, “You disappoint me.”

Anthea felt her heart rip apart. Without turning she said, “I lost my temper, sir.  I’m sorry.”  Then she picked up her bag and ran out.

“Anthea!” he called, but she ignored him and walked until a cab pulled up next to her.  She got in and went straight home.  Without changing she threw herself on her bed, but she didn’t cry.

 _‘What have I done?’_ she thought, burying her face in the pillow.  _‘Keep your calm, Anthea, keep your temper.  He does… I don’t...’_

She rolled onto her back, staring at the ceiling.  “Well,” she said out loud, “I was dreaming dreams beyond my reach.  Maybe Penny will win him… Maybe she’ll be his assistant.  Am I just a whisper to him?”

Now she did cry.

It was late when she woke up.  She turned on the bedside lamp and looked around at the clock.  It read one ‘o’ clock in the morning.  With a sigh she sat up and walked into the kitchen.  Making herself a cup of tea, she grabbed a blanket and opened the window.

Once on the roof she settled in her usual place and wrapped the blanket around her shoulders.  Looking over the city, she found the office building once again and recognized the same point of light.

“Later than usual,” she said quietly.  “Why do you do this to yourself?”

Half an hour later she woke up from a light doze.  When her eyes had cleared, the same glow still winked at her.  She frowned.  Standing, she studied the light, and then came to a decision.

_‘I’m not tired.  I’ll go down and apologize for my actions if he’s still in.’_

She was fully dressed, so she grabbed her coat and purse and caught a cab.  A few minutes later she was walking through the main doors.  She tapped the lift button and waited patiently until the doors slid open. Stepping inside, she hoped he was still in the building.  When she reached the right floor, she was pleased to see the light trickling out from under the door.  She walked up, feeling guilty and anxious, and knocked.

“Sir?  Mr. Holmes?  …It’s me.”

There was no answer.  After a moment of hesitation she eased the door open and peered around it.  Mycroft Holmes sat behind his desk, head in his hands.  Anthea stepped into the room.

“Sir?”

Mycroft slowly looked up.  “Anthea?  What are you doing here?”

“I just…” Anthea’s voice trailed off.  Even in the dim light she could see he was drained and pale.  There were dark circles under his eyes.  “I was just… It’s very late.”

Mycroft rubbed his eyes and waved a hand across the desk. “Work, Miss. Revmapedio, as always.”

“Everyone needs rest,” Anthea allowed.

Mycroft slammed his palm down on the desk. “It’s important!”

Anthea jumped. “I’m-I’m sorry.”

Mycroft groaned and slumped back in his chair. “No… Between all this government business and my brother…”  He gazed up at the ceiling.  “I’m losing focus, Anthea.  And I _need to focus_.”

Anthea wasn’t sure what to say, so she kept quiet.  Finally Mycroft sighed and looked at her. “I think bed would be a reasonable thing for both of us.”

“Yes, sir,” she said as he stood and began pulling on his coat.  Suddenly he staggered and leaned heavily on the desk.  Anthea rushed to his side.  “Are you alright?”

“Dizzy,” he murmured.  “Head’s spinning.”  He was resting on her, and she feared if she moved away he would fall.  She was very conscious of his body so close to hers.

“Let’s get a cab,” she said hurriedly.  Still supporting him, they went to the door.  Anthea took his umbrella from its stand as they passed.  When they reached the street, she hailed a cab.  As Mycroft sat inside, Anthea took another look at his face, tense, eyes closed, and slid into the seat beside him.

She relayed Mycroft’s address to the driver and sat back.  She double checked that she had his umbrella and resolved not to leave Mycroft until she was sure he was alright.  Anthea had rarely supposed Mycroft could overwork himself.  He had seemed like a machine, a clean set of cogs working in synchronized patterns.

 _‘Every machine needs to be oiled,’_ she thought, watching the London city go by.  _‘Perhaps I can be that oil.’_

When they reached Mycroft’s home, Anthea paid the fare and walked with Mycroft to the door.

“The key?” she asked gently.

Mycroft dug into his pocket and pulled out a key.  Anthea slid it into the lock and they went in.  The flat was clean and tidy, but it had air of loneliness, emptiness.  Anthea felt a sadness about it.  She turned to Mycroft.

“Get into bed, Mr. Holmes,” she said. “I’ll lock up.”

Mycroft nodded.  “Thank you.”  Then he slowly walked down the hall and vanished into the bedroom.  Anthea went to the door and put her hand on the knob.  She closed her eyes. She should go.  He was home now, safe and resting.

But what about tomorrow?  Would he be well again?  Of course he would.  But when she locked the door it was from the inside.

She went to the couch and lay down on it.  Taking off her coat, she used it as a blanket.  Soon she was fast asleep and dreaming.

Sunlight hit Anthea in the eyes and her watch said 9:00.  She sat up with a yawn, her coat falling to the floor.  It was then she remembered where she was.  Feeling uncertain, she went into the kitchen and began opening cabinets until she found the coffeepot.  A few minutes later the smell of hazelnut filled the flat, and Anthea was just pouring a cup when the bedroom door opened.

Mycroft was wearing his suit pants and his collared shirt was rumpled.  He stood in the doorway and ran his hand through his hair.  “You didn’t have to stay the night.”

“I know,” she answered.  “Coffee?”

He moved to the table and took the cup.  Looking into it, he said, “Last night was… unexpected.  What compelled you to come to the office?”

“It was late and I was on the roof,” she answered as he sat down across from her.  “I saw the light on and wanted to apologize.”

“For your actions earlier that day.”

Anthea nodded.  Just then there was a buzz.  Mycroft reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone.  “Mr. White. Wondering where we are.”

“I’ll text him saying we-you, won’t be in,” said Anthea, taking out her phone.

“I see no reason why you should have to go in,” said Mycroft, taking a drink of coffee.  “I think we both can use a bit more rest, and White is quite capable of handling things.”

Anthea quickly typed a message.  “There, he won’t worry now.”  She poured herself a cup of coffee and sat down.  It was surreal, being here, in his kitchen, drinking coffee.  She had never expected something like this.  Unsure what to do, she sat silently and sipped her drink.

Mycroft was going through his emails.  After a minute he let out a dry chuckle.  “A message from Vince Xavier.”

“The one who always has those big parties?” Anthea asked.

“The very same.  It seems he’s throwing another one and has invited me.” Mycroft set down his phone and stood, going to the refrigerator.  “They’re always dreadfully boring. But one must keep up relationships with officials such as him.”  Mycroft took out jam and a loaf of bread from a drawer.  “And have a look at the request. It’s laughable.”

Anthea picked up his phone and read the email. “A fancy-dress party at six tonight.  Dinner and a dance.  ‘And please bring a date, Mr. Holmes, you slacker’!”  She blushed at the tease and looked up.  “You don’t have a date.  …Do you?”

“Indeed not,” answered Mycroft with a glance at her.  Anthea glanced back at the phone.  All at once she felt Mycroft move behind her and she stiffened.  Looking up, she felt her heart racing faster. 

“Vince Xavier has hassled me for years,” said Mycroft.  “He’s says to be happy you have to be in love.”

“Silly,” Anthea breathed.

“Very.  But, since he insists on someone accompanying me to this party, perhaps you would care to join me tonight?”

Anthea’s heart felt like it was beating a thousand times faster than normal. “I-I would be happy to,” she stammered, standing.  “Very happy you go with you. Not as a date, of course, but as a…”

“I’ll pick you up at 5:15 then.”

“Alright,” she said, feeling his closeness. “I’ll go now.”  She picked up her coat and purse and went to the door.  Before she went out she turned back once more. “See you later, Mr. Holmes.”

All the way home Anthea felt like she was going to burst.  The moment she stepped through her door and she laughed out loud, and then quickly quieted.  “It’s only a simple party,” she reminded herself. “And I’m _not_ his date.”

But she spent a long time getting ready.  A deep blue knee length dress and a gold chain necklace from which hung a sapphire was her attire for the night, and she let her hair flow.

When the doorbell rang, she picked up her compact purse and opened the door.  Mycroft stood there, dressed in his black pinstriped suit and red tie. His umbrella, as ever, was hooked over his arm.  He offered his other arm to Anthea.

“The cab awaits.”

On the way they spoke mainly of work, though Mycroft did talk about his brother, which was a rare topic, and he asked about what Anthea did in her spare time.  She explained her life was rather a dull one.

“No life should be dull,” said Mycroft as the cab pulled up outside Vince Xavier’s large country house.  “If it is, something needs to change.”

“I’ll do the best I can to make it more exciting,” Anthea said.  As they walked up the path to the door it suddenly hit how very thrilling her life had become within the past twenty four hours.  Right now she was walking to a party with Mycroft Holmes.  Her dreams had never progressed so far in reality before.

Vince Xavier greeted them in the entrance hall.

“Mycroft!” he said, shaking the man’s hand.  “Glad to see you could make it!”  His eyes turned to Anthea. “And it’s about time you brought a lovely lady along with you.”

“Anthea Revmapedio is my assistant,” said Mycroft.  “She was kind enough to accompany me to your gathering.”

“I see.  A pleasure to meet you, miss,” said Xavier, nodding to Anthea. She nodded back.  Then Xavier turned to Mycroft and winked. “But there is dancing later, Mycroft, keep that in mind.”  He turned away to receive another guest and Mycroft and Anthea moved into the drawing room.

The party was very posh, as was the house it was held in. Anthea was sure she could get lost in a mansion like this.  Anthea saw several people she knew, including Penny, who she resolved to ignore.  Mycroft was drawn into a conversation and Anthea wandered about until she recognized a man from the building where she worked. They got into talking and chatted until dinner.

When everyone had eaten their fill and the plates were cleared, Xavier led everyone to the ballroom.  When Anthea stepped inside, her first action was to gasp. It was a classic dance floor, with chandeliers and covered in gold.  She felt small just standing in it.

“I don’t dance, Xavier,” she overheard Mycroft telling their host.  “It’s not my area.”

“Suit yourself, Mycroft!” shrugged Xavier, “but don’t be mad if someone steals Miss. Anthea from under your nose. She’s a treasure.”

Anthea wanted to see how Mycroft would respond to that, but someone took her hand and she found herself on the ballroom floor.  For Anthea the night passed quickly. She enjoyed dancing and hardly left the floor.  Minutes to 11:00, she stopped to catch her breath.  The young man she had been dancing with asked her out again, but she refused.

“I need a rest before I can dance another step,” she said, and he went off.  She leaned against the wall and looked around the room.  Mycroft was in the corner with a man, talking.  Anthea wished she would have had the chance to dance with him, but never really expected it.  The lights dimmed and a slower song began to play. Anthea watched the dancers and a moment later she looked up to see Mycroft beside her.

“Enjoying yourself?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said, brushing her hair out of her eyes.  “Thank you for bringing me, sir.”

They were silent for a moment, and then Mycroft said, “I suppose the night would be meaningless unless I danced one song.”  He looked at her. “After all, this is ‘dinner and a dance’ is it not?”

“It is,” she answered and he took her hand.  A second later he had drawn her to his chest and they were swirling amongst the other dancers, lost in a sea of dresses and suits.  Anthea closed her eyes and let herself get swept along in the music and the feeling of him so close to her.  After a minute she glanced up at him and found him looking right back at her.

“Why don’t you care to dance?” she asked.  “You’re wonderful.”

“Well,” he said, “I never had anyone to dance with.”

“Well, now you do,” she said. Then, realizing what she had said was very straightforward, she added, “Mr. Holmes.”

He leaned down so his breath tickled her ear. “That’s Mycroft to you.”

When Anthea walked into the office building the next morning both Faith and White were waiting by the lift.

“Tell us all about last night!” said Faith and they stepped into the lift.  “We heard from James that you went with Mr. Holmes to Vince Xavier’s party.”

“I did,” answered Anthea. “It was…” She searched for the word. “Magical.”

“James said you were a good dancer,” added White.  Faith winked. “I think he fancies you, Anthea.”

“Well,” said Anthea, “He is quite a charmer, but…” She smiled and the memory of Mycroft holding her as they danced. “Never mind.”

“What?” asked Faith as the lift stopped. “You’ve found someone else? Who is he?” The young woman was halfway out the lift doors.  “Quick tell me, I’ve got to go!”

Anthea shook her head.  “No, he’s not mine at all.  Couldn’t be.” The lift doors started to close. “But I will say that Mr. Holmes is a very good dancer.”

Faith’s jaw dropped as the doors slid shut and the lift began moving up again.  Anthea turned to find White staring at her.

“He danced with you?”

Anthea blushed. “It wasn’t anything, Bill!  You know him.  It was just a dance.”

White nodded slowly. “Yes, I know him… But he’s seems to change around you.”

The lift stopped and they got out, finding Penny waiting to go down.  Anthea smiled pleasantly at the woman.  “Morning, Penny.  Enjoy the party last night?”

“Oh,” said Penny, “very much!  Mr. Holmes is such a fine dancer, don’t you agree?”  Then she swept into the lift.  Anthea looked at White.

“She’s lying,” said White.  He patted her on the shoulder. “Ignore her.”

Anthea entered her office and tossed her purse on the floor.  Penny had to be lying. She hadn’t danced with Mycroft, had she?  But then, Anthea didn’t know where Mycroft had been the entire time. For all she knew Penny could have been with him.

The door opened and Mycroft came in with a folder.  “Organize these meeting times, would you?” he said. “I have no time for anything with the impending Parliament assembly.  I have been asked to make an appearance.”

“Don’t overwork yourself, sir,” she said, taking the folder.

“I know you won’t let me,” he answered.  He went to the door, but before he left, Anthea stopped him with a question.

“Mr. Holmes?  …Mycroft?  Who did you dance with last night?”

Mycroft turned and looked hard at her. “I danced with you, Anthea.  To me, Penny Terfilion is more annoying than my brother.”

Anthea nodded and when he had gone, she smiled and set into her work with vigor.

The following months were magnificent for Anthea.  She denied everything White and Faith said about her and Mycroft, but every night she fell asleep smiling and greeted the work day with enthusiasm.  Mycroft had taken her to three more parties, each time saying it was to keep up good connections. Anthea didn’t much care why they went. She was simply happy to dance with him.

It was early spring when Anthea walked into Mycroft’s office, and found four people instead of one.

Mycroft was seated in his chair; White was hovering nervously behind him.  Penny and a man Anthea didn’t know were standing next to the desk.

“Hello,” said Anthea. “I’ll just wait outside?”

“No, no,” said Mycroft, standing. “I’m afraid this concerns you, Miss Revmapedio.”

“I am Don Peters,” said the man, holding out his hand. Anthea took it. “I’m in charge of background checks and making sure everyone fits the requirements for their jobs.”

Anthea felt a flutter of anxiety in her chest and she looked at Penny. The other woman was smiling at her.  “I’m… I’m afraid I don’t understand, sir.”

Peters sighed. “Miss. Revmapedio.  When you first applied for a job with Mr. Holmes did you understand with your background you were questionable as his assistant?”

“I did, sir,” answered Anthea. “But-.”

“I chose her, despite her background,” said Mycroft sharply, “because she was the one for the job.”

“Unfortunately I can’t allow that,” said Peters. “I know she is a very fine worker, but there are rules.”

“Surely something could be done?” asked White.

“Listen to the law, Mr. White!” said Penny.  “This isn’t a light matter!  Anthea’s background, her father and reports of thefts are not something to be taken lightly.”

“Indeed not,” said Peters, nodding at Penny.

“I can’t help it if I grew up basically living on the street!” said Anthea.  “I’ve tried my best to make up for my past and to focus only on the future.”

Peters shook his head. “I’m sorry Miss. Revmapedio, you must leave Mr. Holmes’ employ.”

“I can’t work without her,” said Mycroft with a chilly look at Peters.  Peters waved his hand. “Oh! Don’t worry about the absence of an assistant, Mr. Holmes!  Miss. Terfilion here would be the perfect candidate for the position.”  He turned to Anthea. “I’m sorry, miss, but it’s my job.”

Anthea looked from Peters, to Penny, to White.  White’s face was filled with regret.  Then Anthea turned her gaze on Mycroft.  Their eyes met and Anthea saw the ice coldness in them.  She looked at her feet and swallowed.

“Yes, sir, I’ll leave right away.”

“I’ll pack up your things from the office,” offered White quietly.

“Thank you, Bill,” she whispered, and walked out.

Faith was outside leaning against the wall.  “What’s going on?” she asked. “I came up to talk to Bill and then he had to go because Penny and some guy-.”

“I-I have to leave,” said Anthea, fighting back tears.  Before Faith could say anything she ran down the hall to the lift.

Anthea didn’t take the cab home. She went to a nearby park and walked.  After a while her legs wouldn’t support her anymore and she collapsed onto a bench, tears overflowing. 

There was never any hope…  Had Penny been destined to have her job from the start?  _‘I should have never went to that interview.  I knew it would end up like this…’_ She bowed her head.  _‘But I held on when I should have let go.’_ She looked over the pond at a few ducks, floating lazily in the water and quaking.

 _‘If I could be one of those ducks!’_ Anthe thought.  _‘And forget about all the troubles and losses of my life!’_

Her phone buzzed but she ignored it.  She knew it was most likely White or Faith, trying to console her, reassure her.  Leaning her head back she stared up at the sky, getting lost in the empty blue until her eyes blurred with tears again and her head ached.

A long day followed.  Anthea eventually made it back to her flat by lunchtime.  She dropped her purse in the bedroom doorway and looked around.  The room had never seemed so bleak to her before.

“It’s not the room, it’s you,” she said to herself, sitting on the bed and undressing.  Her phone buzzed again; the seventh time this hour.  With a sigh, Anthea rolled onto her stomach and turned the device off.  She held it in her hand and recalled how astonished she had been when Mycroft first given it to her.  And then how astonished she had been when he danced with her.

Suddenly there was a knock on the door.  Anthea glanced up, but didn’t answer.

“Anthea!” came White’s voice.  “Anthea, we know you’re in there!”

“Come on, Anthea!” Faith called through the wood, “Don’t be like this, we want to help!”

“How?” Anthea asked quietly, but stood and put on her bathrobe.  When she opened the door, Faith nearly fell in.  The woman took Anthea’s hand.

“Oh, honey! I’m so sorry!  I swear, if I see Penny again, I will-.”

“Do nothing,” said Anthea going to the couch.  “Whatever you say to her, it won’t help me in any way.”

“I-I suppose,” said Faith, taken aback by the cold tone.  She sat down in a chair, but White remained standing.

“I for one am going to try and get you back,” the man said firmly.

“What can you do?” Anthea muttered.

“I can try,” White stated.

“Trying isn’t good enough,” snapped Anthea.

Faith’s eyebrows drew together “Don’t you _want_ to go back?  We’re attempting to make that happen and you’re sitting here being pessimistic!”

“What else can I do!” yelled Anthea.  “I don’t have a chance!  Not against all the regulations and laws!  I may as well try talking to a brick wall for all the good it will do!”

“Forget you then!” Faith cried angrily. “White and I will try ourselves!”  She leapt to her feet and stormed out of the flat.

“We’re just trying to help you, Anthea,” White said.

“Maybe I don’t want it,” the woman replied, looking out the window.

White shifted anxiously, but didn’t say anything.  After a moment of silence Anthea heard the door shut.  Then she lowered her head to her arms and tried not to cry.

Sometime later she woke to her phone buzzing.  She ignored it and went into the kitchen.  Looking at the clock she saw it was nearing five ‘o’ clock.  She heated up some leftover lasagna and ate it in silence.  Her phone buzzed numerous times while she did.

 _‘Faith and Bill were just trying to be kind,’_ Anthea thought to herself as the hour wore on.  Feeling guilty and shameful of the way she had spoken to them, Anthea stood and went into the living room.  Picking up her phone she unlocked it and swiped to see the text.

Ten from White, eleven from Faith, and the most recent one…

Mycroft Holmes.

“Anthea,” she read, “Do not worry yourself into a frenzy or cry too hard.  These things can be fixed.”

“How, Mycroft?” she whispered. “How on Earth can you fix this problem?”

There was a ding and another text popped up underneath the one she was reading.

_We have things to discuss._

“I’m sorry, Myc,” she said quietly. “I just can’t.”

_And don’t say you can’t.  You know very well you can._

Anthea sighed. “Not this time.”

_I know you have your phone; you always have it.  If you do not respond I am going to come to your house._

Anthea shook her head. “Don’t do that.”  But she knew he would. Mycroft Holmes was not a man to be put off.

Pulling on her coat and grabbing her purse, Anthea left her apartment.  She walked down the street, passing people and shops, not really seeing them.  She wandered until she reached the park.  She meandered along the paths, unconsciously making her way to the duck pond.  The ducks were diving and eating, and Anthea sat on a bench.  The day was cold and froze her tears away.

Anthea wrapped her coat around her more tightly and shivered, but didn’t move.  A light dusting of snow still covered everything; the ducks had arrived to early this year.

As she sat, the light faded from the sky and the city surrounding the park glittered.  The air was crisp and cold.

Someone sat next to her and she scooted away from them politely.  Then a gloved hand leaned an umbrella against the bench beside her leg and she sighed.

“Mr. Holmes…  Mycroft… I don’t want to think about it.”

“So you are simply going to sit and sulk.” Mycroft sighed. “How dull.”

Anthea felt a spark of anger in her chest.  “I don’t know if you understand, but this hurts me.  It hurts me a lot. I have never been happier working for you and I never wanted that to end.”

“I understand,” Mycroft said, but Anthea kept her eyes fixed on the ducks.  She needed to get it all out.  After all, why not? She had nothing to lose.

“My whole life was just me being stepped on and thrown away.  I only found my place when it was at your side.   I was so happy and then...  Then I fell in love with you.”  Anthea almost stopped speaking there, but forced herself to continue.  “I thought it was impossible, and it still is. You are an amazing, powerful man and I’m just me.  But still, this time with you has been more beautiful than I could have ever dreamed it could be…”  Tears were rolling down her cheeks now and she choked out the last three words.

“And we danced…”

Anthea hunched up her shoulders and looked down at her lap.  She felt like running, but was her legs wouldn’t move.

Mycroft sighed, and of the corner of her eye, Anthea saw his breath curl in the air.

“I never fully realized…”  Mycroft paused.  “I never…”

Anthea found the will to move as her heart shattered.  “Goodbye, Mr. Holmes,” she said quietly and stood up.

His hand stopped her, grasping her wrist, and she looked up at his face for the first time that night.  “I never fully realized how… human, I am,” he said quietly.  “That I breathe, I hope, I feel.  I do have something of a heart…”

Anthea was crying now, a different sort of cry, and she saw Mycroft’s blue eyes glittered with unshed tears.

“I have never given anything personal of mine to anyone,” Mycroft whispered, drawing her close, “but my heart… My heart belongs to you.”

“Oh, Mycroft…” She breathed.

Then his arms were around her and her face was inches from his..  Mycroft’s body was pressed up against hers and she could feel his heart. Or was that her own, beating so hard she was sure it would burst?  She was almost frightened.   He leaned closer, his lips brushing hers, and Anthea was filled with an explosion of passionate electricity.  The feeling intensified and then their mouths met and Anthea closed her eyes and let herself go.

Then the moment was done and over all too soon, and Anthea stepped back with a deep breath, her nose filled with the smell of his cologne.  Mycroft kept a hold on her hand and she blushed.  Now that it was over, she felt silly and embarrassed.

“Mr. Holmes,” she said, pulling her hand away. “I still won’t be coming into work tomorrow…”  She couldn’t believe she was bringing up her job now. After what had just happened.

Mycroft didn’t seem to find that odd at all.  He picked up his umbrella and said, “I think you will.”

Anthea looked up at him.  “But you heard Mr. Peters.  My background…”

“What Mr. Peters doesn’t understand,” Mycroft said, “is that who you were doesn’t matter if who you are today is even better than that.”

He offered his arm to her and she took it.  They began walking through the snow as it fell around them and settled as a blanket to the earth.

“I simply could not stand with the fact you were not working with me,” Mycroft continued as they walked.  “I sent White to gather up some papers, talked to a few people…”

“Made some completely adequate remarks that stunned all who heard you,” Anthea said, a bubble of happiness riding in her stomach and making her feel giddy.

Mycroft smirked. “Precisely.”

“Thank you,” Anthea replied. “Really, thank you.  You have done so much for me and I can never repay you.”

Mycroft glanced at her.  “Anthea…" he said, "You already are.”


End file.
